Burn
by NoSaviour
Summary: "Have we met before?" The stranger shook his head and pulled down his hood. Sakura, at age 34, is retired from her Shinobi life. But who says she can't fall in love again after twenty-two years?
1. Encounter

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto.

**Burn**: "Have we met before?" The stranger shook his head and pulled down his hood. Sakura, at age 34, is retired from her Shinobi life. But who says she can't fall in love again after twenty-two years?

* * *

**Burn**

1. Encounter

* * *

There comes a day when you realize you're tired of it – all of it, _everything_.

Sometimes, it's human nature to give up and hope for a better life next time. Oftentimes, though, human nature drives one to cling onto life anyway, because resorting to death is the last thing one should do.

Haruno Sakura was of the latter. She was weary of all that had ever happened, and one day, she gave it all up, except for her life. Shinobis and doctors were now faraway things.

A clear tinkling bell chimed and as usual, she paused from her research and greeted, "Hello."

Her customer was oddly quiet, and for a second, she was scared he would attack her.

Not that she was scared of getting hurt, but she would have to defend herself, and she didn't ever want to use her shinobi skills again. It brought her too much to remember, too much pain.

To her relief, the customer, suspiciously clad in black with a hood masking his face, merely nodded in reply.

And then her heart quickened again, because he lifted the hood up ever so slightly, and she caught terrible burn marks.

"I know just the right ointment for that." She went to the back of her pharmacy and searched for the medicine.

When she returned, the stranger had taken his hood off, and Sakura now saw the blindfold covering his eyes.

She couldn't totally run away from her previous life, after all, so she had set up a tiny pharmacy. And upon seeing his face, instincts kicked up again.

"Are you blind?" To her question, the customer simply nodded once.

Judging by the way his mouth was clamped tight shut, and his lack of audible answers, she asked again, "Are you mute?" A slight nod was, again, his response.

After packaging the medicines, the pink-haired woman outstretched her hand on the counter to give it to him.

She felt the stranger pause to look at her hands, even though he was blind. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she pulled her hands back to her side anyway, away from his view.

Her hands were soft and smooth, and they were small and chubby, like a little girl's. Except… she was a thirty-four year old woman! How embarrassing.

In silence, the man before her carefully set a few bills on the counter and headed to the door. The way he moved, the way he shifted, everything about him told her that he was a shinobi.

Haruno Sakura could never run away, could she? There were painful reminders everywhere, it seemed.

The chime bell sounded again, and just before he stepped out, she blurted without knowing why.

"Have we met before?"

The strange man turned back, ever so subtly, and he seemed to say "yes."

Perhaps that was her imagination, too, because in the next moment, he shook his head and pulled down his hood.

And then, she saw him no more that day.

* * *

**Notes**: Am I supposed to capitalize "shinobi"? Anyway, another inspiration struck me... I have too many ideas in my mind. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you.


	2. Waiting

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto.

**Burn**: "Have we met before?" The stranger shook his head and pulled down his hood. Sakura, at age 34, is retired from her Shinobi life. But who says she can't fall in love again after twenty-two years?

* * *

**Burn**

2. Waiting

* * *

Ever since the day she had seen the black-cloaked man leaving her little pharmacy, she wondered, perhaps, if she will ever see him again.

For a few weeks, she met nobody of the sort.

In the small, peaceful village away from Konoha, yet still within the Fire country, Sakura stood behind the counter as usual. The tinkling bells chimed whenever the door opened, and she greeted the customers, who might as well were her neighbors.

It was a small community she lived in, after all. These people only had vague ideas of her previous life, let alone the meaning of being a "shinobi."

Gotou, a little village kid Sakura was fond of, dropped by the drug store. He was wild and childish, and she was thankful that his hair was not blonde.

And sometimes, secretly, she wondered what it would feel like to have a child of her own. But her heart overwhelmed with guilt as soon as she thought that, because shinobis and marriage were not an ideal combination.

But she was no longer a shinobi. Haruno Sakura could settle down, once and fall all, with a normal village man, and live the rest of her lives here.

Before her, the little kid – Gotou – scribbled a note for her. It was the name of a medicine his mother had sent him to get. She handed him the medicine with a smile, and Gotou ran to the door, which suddenly flung open.

There was the chime of her doorbell, and Gotou ruffled against a course fabric, and then the little boy fell down. The medicine in his hand rolled away to the floor, dropping as well.

It was a black-cloaked man. It was a stranger, it could have been anyone, but Sakura had the feeling that it was the same man from a few weeks ago.

And he was a shinobi; she was sure of this. And she also knew that unlike the shinobis she had grown up with, most shinobis were dangerous and ruthless. They could kill a child for being in their way.

Before Sakura could walk up and stand in between the stranger and Gotou in defence (because she wanted to protect this innocent child), the man swooped down and reached for the medicine.

Silently, a pale hand slipped out from the black cloth and gently hoisted Gotou up. The little boy received the medicine, but ran away quickly. Strangers were unusual in this village.

And anything unusual was considered frightening.

Sakura had seen many unusual things in her life, but just like the villagers, a sort of inconceivable fear fluttered in her heart.

"Do you… need something?" She finally questioned upon realizing that the only reason he'd come here is for medicine.

Wordlessly, he pulled down his hood again, and there were much more severe burns. Sakura felt the urge to heal it, though she hadn't used her chakra for years. She had seen his pale hand; she had seen his beautiful skin contrasting the rough shinobi career he must have.

Instead, she went to the back of the cabinets and dug out another ointment for the burns.

* * *

**Notes**: I'm in a hurry so I have no idea how this is like. I hope it's okay. Thank you so much for all the attention! Thank you readers and reviewers! Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	3. Doubts

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto.

**Burn**: "Have we met before?" The stranger shook his head and pulled down his hood. Sakura, at age 34, is retired from her Shinobi life. But who says she can't fall in love again after twenty-two years?

* * *

**Burn**

3. Doubt

* * *

The black-cloaked stranger had gone away, and a few days had passed since their encounter. Sakura looked up at the darkening sky, silently vowing that she hated the colour black, yet there she was… entranced by the mysterious hue.

Sighing, the pink-haired woman walked up to the front to close her shop, when she spotted frantic screams coming her way. Instantly, her suppressed shinobi skills swirled within her, and her senses sharply heightened. This was her home now, and she wanted to protect it.

Instead, it was merely a woman – Gotou's mother, to be exact – but tears were streaming down her face.

In between her sobs, she cried, "Gotou! My G-Gotou has been killed!"

Her heart clenched with panic and worry, and she forced the woman to show her the way to the dead boy.

Maybe, she hoped, _maybe_ she may still be able to save him.

When she got there, she knew her hope had been silly. The boy had been found long after he's died, and Sakura felt that familiar stream of helplessness course through her body and mind.

Solemnly, the former medic inspected Gotou's body, and a sickening realization dawned on her. The little boy, in this peaceful village, had been slashed by a shinobi. For a second, her mind flickered to the black-cloaked man; he was the most probable culprit.

Instead, she shook her head. He had already left the village a few days ago… right?

. . .

The next day, Sakura almost considered closing the shop. She was in the mood for mourning, but she changed her mind, since work always helped her forget her misery.

The chime tinkled, and she welcomed her customer without looking up. There was the sound of crinkling fabric, and the staggering of a very injured man. Sakura stepped up at once, and realized it was the stranger. Eyeing him with suspicion and doubt, she was almost tempted to ask him the question clawing inside her, but then he fell unconscious.

Her hands caught him in reflex, and her heart may have thudded from such close contact with a man, but her instinct took over. With no time to spare, she carried the man, dragging him across her pharmacy, and kicked open a door at the back.

Carefully, she set him down on the bed, and upon shedding away his clothes for inspection, she gasped in horror. There were countless battle scars across his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his back…

Trembling, and because he was unconscious, the thirty-four year old woman gathered chakra to her hands. For the first few seconds, nothing happened, and she sighed in defeat. It had been too long since she had last used chakra.

And then, as if to prove her wrong, the familiar green glow surged from her hands. Without dwelling on her worries, she immediately set out to heal him.

. . .

When he woke up, his throat was parched dry, but most of his severe injuries have been mended. Beside him, on a small chair, was the sleeping pharmacist, an image that sent a pang of shock to the man. Hastily, his hands reached up to his eyes, and he breathed out a sigh of relief that the blindfold had not been removed.

And then a wave of shame overcame him, because he had unconsciously gone to _her_.

He cursed silently, and decided he should sneak away and never come back to this small village. Silently, he slipped from the covers and was about to step to the door when a hand caught him by the shoulders.

He turned almost reluctantly, for he knew it was her.

"Are you really mute?"

He frowned; why did she ask him that? Carefully masking his gaze (though it already was by the blindfold), he nodded once.

"Have you…" she abruptly started again, but there was a pause, like she was doubtful of her own voice, her own question. "Have you killed a boy named Gotou?"

He raised his eyebrows, and silently shook his head. Why was she suddenly accusing him?

"Tell me you didn't."

His eyebrows furrowed together. He already gave her the answer, so why was she persistently confronting him?

"Tell me you didn't!" She almost screamed, a seething fury beneath her calm surface.

"Damn it! I know you can speak! I used to be a medic, and I can tell you're not really mute!" Hot tears threatened to be shed. Her anger and grief was swooshing around, and she couldn't tell if it was because of Gotou's death or the stranger's lie.

And, still, there was no response.

It was too much for her in a single day. Unable to fight the urges, and feeling unnecessary to do so anyway, she started crying softly. Uncontrollable tears streamed down her face.

"I know you're Sasuke. So, won't you tell me?" Her whisper was barely audible, muffled by her crying, but the stranger had definitely heard her.

He looked stunned, though maybe that was her imagination, and silence stretched out. Remembering that she was a woman now, and quite old for that matter, Sakura wiped her tears and waited for him to reply.

But then he turned and walked away, leaving her again, leaving her deprived of the truth.

Long after he had left, Sakura fell on the bed and wondered dazedly. Doubts of her own feelings and assumptions came crashing down on her. Maybe he wasn't Sasuke, after all. If the stranger indeed was, it would hurt her too much, because she knew one thing for sure.

If he was capable of lying, he was capable of murdering.

* * *

**Notes**: Thank you readers & reviewers! Oh... The last chapter (chapter 2) needs some serious editing... (groans). Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you!

I apologize for any confusion! This story will be continued!


End file.
